


9:47 On New Year's Eve

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M, New Year's Eve, Teenlock, Tumblr: exchangelock, exchangelock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The developing relationship between two friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	9:47 On New Year's Eve

Sherlock Holmes had met John Watson three weeks after his sixteenth birthday. It had been a frigid day in late January, and steamy clouds of air puffed from between his lips. When he met John, Sherlock was dashing through ankle deep snow. Which seemed to be a common occurrence for him recently.

Never the most popular kid growing up, things had been getting worse for him after transferring to a new school in London. Sherlock had innocently mentioned to someone that he did ballet in his free time. Combined with his lack of a verbal filter, his slight lisp, and his brains, it made Sherlock the school’s number one target for being knocked around.

And so, he was running from two older boys through the park.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, really it shouldn’t. But of course, when he turned to look over his shoulder, Sherlock barreled headlong into a stocky body.

In a handful of seconds, the young man that had broken his fall figured out what was going on. Soon enough, Sherlock was sitting in the snow, watching a boy in a rugby jersey and scarf facing off against the attackers.

 

 

Two hours after meeting John Watson, Sherlock swabbed the cut on his forehead while he sipped a cup of hot cocoa with a somewhat reckless grin. “You’re insane. They were twice your size, and there were two of them.”

John saluted with the mug. “I won, didn’t I?” he pointed out, wincing when Sherlock spread a plaster over the cut.

“Idiot…”

 

 

In February, Sherlock found a Valentine with a picture of Poe and his Tell Tale Heart tucked into his locker. John opened his locker to find a plain pink heart taped to the door. Neither mentioned it to each other, but both kept the cards in their pockets the whole week.

 

 

March found John practicing rugby once a week. Sherlock managed to find an excuse to be near the rugby field every Thursday at three. And if he found himself free to share dinner with John, he obviously didn’t plan it that way.

 

 

Through the spring, Sherlock glowered from afar as John dated a different girl every few weeks. John never questioned that his attempts at relationships inevitably ended, and he found himself on Sherlock’s bedroom floor again, laughing as they watched films together. Or that Sherlock would seem quietly pleased to have him back.

 

 

In July, Sherlock complained loudly that John wanted to have a party for his eighteenth birthday. When John muttered that he should plan something for them to do instead, Sherlock took him up on the challenge. A dinner, a concert, and a walk through the park where they met. Sherlock planned it all out with care. He accounted for every part of the night, until John’s fingers brushed against his as they strolled under the stars.

It was like an electric shock through him, sending shivers up Sherlock’s arm and down his spine.

It would be three weeks before he could bring himself to look John in the eyes.

 

 

John took a gap year. He knew he would be going to university in London so he and Sherlock wouldn’t be separated. While Sherlock was still in school, John got a job to pay for tuition. Everyday, Sherlock would go to the cafe and beg free biscuits from John then walk with him home.

John stopped dating, and didn’t miss it in the least.

 

 

Christmas came. John dipped into his savings to buy Sherlock a new bow and case for his violin.

Sherlock bought John his text books for his first semester, then hit him with one when he got choked up.

 

 

“The music’s great, don’t you think?” John asked, sliding closer to Sherlock on the sofa. “Do you want to dance?”

It was 9:47 on New Year’s Eve. They were in Mike Stamford’s living room.

“Only if you don’t step on my toes.”

John’s hands felt perfect on Sherlock’s hips. They moved slowly together, getting closer and closer with each song until they were pressed chest to chest.

They would never know who initiated it. They would argue about it for years. But one second they were dancing, the next they were kissing.

And a second later, Sherlock was pulling away because he had managed to catch John’s upper lip and part of his nose.

Laughing and holding Sherlock close, John looked at his watch. “We’ve got an hour and twelve minutes to perfect the technique.” he murmured against Sherlock’s ear.

 

 

Sherlock Holmes had met John Watson three weeks after his sixteenth birthday.

Five years, seven months, and nineteen days later, Sherlock Holmes clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from letting out a cliche gasp, as a tanned soldier knelt in front of him in the middle of a crowded airport.

The ring was two sizes too big.

“Idiot…”


End file.
